Divine Comedy
by C. L. LaCroix
Summary: "These violent delights have violent ends. However, even if it is required of me to cross the very bridges of Heaven that have forsaken my name, know that I will not hesitate to do as you ask." Sebastian/OC
1. Warmth in Winter

_Welcome to Phantasmagoric Theatre_

Yes, yes, I started another Kuroshitsuji story. But I was rather bored with Lucis, since I already have everything plotted out from the beginning to the end. I need a bit of spontaneity in my dull, dull life.

This story is a bit... different from anything I've ever written. I know some of you will scream "OOC!" But please, uh, stay with me. Everything will make sense later on - that, I promise.

**Editor's Note: **

_Imagine the story to be like a cheesecake. Sweet, buttery fluffy. But possibly a tad cheesy. _

_I know it's going to be an enjoyable read. _

_Ah, and the strawberries!_

-Kevin, _the Editor_

_**Disclaimer:** Lecila does not own **Kuroshitsuji.** _

* * *

I met him on a Sunday.

_Ironic_, I would realize later. But on that day, I was too busy to even ponder over the dark figure that would have such a large impact in my life. It wasn't as if he was doing anything worth mentioning. He was just, well, _there_. Amongst the many people that I was required to give my service to, he was only one of the many heads of the crowd. His rather divine appearance was the only thing that set him apart from the others, I think.

Due to the rather busy day at Dose Expresso, I barely had the time to glance in his direction. However, when I took the time to thank him for his visit and handed him his order, his bright crimson irises were the only things that struck me as odd.

I had thought that I imagined it, for not even a second later, they turned back to a deeper colour of dark brown. And with a charming smile, he took the glass cup from my grasp, his gloved hand brushing against my fingers, and turned to take an empty seat by the glass window.

There was something rather off about that man. However, I was quick to brush it off as the next customer greeted me with a warm smile.

"All right there, love?" said the young man with a small grin. He tugged on his winter scarf and stuffed it in his rather large coat pocket.

"All right," I responded politely, "What can I get you today, Sir?"

"A strong cuppa would be nice, darling."

"Coming right up, Sir," I responded readily.

As I put the money away in the register, I glanced up at him with a small smile and handed back his change.

Due to that small action, I was able to see that man from before – the man with crimson eyes. His body was half-facing the glass window, but his hard, garnet eyes lingered in my general direction. Startled when I caught his gaze, I could only give a small smile. His expression changed as he returned my gesture and lifted his beverage up in greeting.

From then on, I would see the man with crimson eyes in the café more during my afternoon shifts. Though the hues of his eyes were a darker shade of brown, from my few encounters with the man, I was able to confirm that his irises did have a slight tint of very dark crimson – if only a little. So I thought it appropriate to say that his eyes were a crimson colour.

He was very pleasant. The man was very polite when seeking out his order, so I had no problem with his constant comings and goings. He would often initiate conversation with me whilst I work during calm days. However, the subject never went past the boarders of typical conversation with strangers.

I didn't even ask for his name.

It was a little unfair, considering that he knew of mine due to my name-tag. However, I never deemed it necessary to ask for his. He was neither a friend nor an acquaintance – he was a mere stranger, a customer, who I just happen to serve. I suppose I never bothered to ask because I expected him to disappear soon enough.

That's why I was a little surprised when he suddenly decided to introduce himself.

The day was slow. I thought it rather odd, due to it being winter and all, but I suppose people were rather busy with the whole ordeal of Christmas shopping to even think about stopping at a café for a cup. I didn't mind all that much – I was a bit glad to have finally caught a break.

Due to the lack of activity, I found myself conversing once again with the crimson-eyed man. _Sebastian_, he called himself. I suppose that at this stage, it was safe to assume that we were friends.

"Sebastian," I said, "Well, it's nice to finally know your name."

He chuckled. "Yes, well, I thought it a bit unfair that I knew yours and yet you did not know mine."

I smiled slightly. It seemed that we were on a similar train of thought.

His company was nice. Any diversion from the slow day of work was, indeed, welcomed.

As our conversation continued, I was able to take notice of his rather heavy accent. Don't mistaken me – I thought it rather refined. It was just so uncommon for anyone nowadays to talk with such regal-sounding lilt. Sebastian talked as if he was from an old, 19th century-set, British movie. I don't even recall if my grandfather talked in that fashion.

As our chat progressed, I couldn't help but feel his distance. While he was as polite as ever, I was still able to notice how… _withdrawn_ he was. As if he did not want to reveal too much. I supposed that it was understandable, considering that this was our first proper talk. Though despite that, he remained polite.

"Sebastian, how come you're not shopping for Christmas?" I said. "That is, if you don't mind my asking," I quickly amended.

Taking a small sip from his ordered beverage, he relaxed and gave a small smile before replying, "Not at all. I'm afraid I do not celebrate Christmas."

I nodded my head in understanding. At least he was more at ease now.

Instead of his usual seat by the window, Sebastian chose to sit on a vacant stool near the register, where I was. I was glad – it made conversing with him much easier.

"What about you?" he inquired as he set the cup down on the table, "Do you not celebrate?"

I busied myself with wiping the coffee-stained counter with a rag as I answered. "I do. I have to work this whole week, though, so I suppose my break's going to be cut a little shorter."

The corner of his lips pulled into a small frown. "I see. How unfortunate."

"It's not all bad," I said with a small, optimistic smile, "Had I not been here for my shift, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you."

He lowered his head in a rather bashful manner, his long, raven fringes lightly brushing his face. Even from that angle, however, I was able to see his lips turn up in a serene smile.

I stopped the circular motions of my hand on the table.

He really did look handsome with that sort of smile. It lit up his whole face. Sebastian's usual polite smile was nice, but it really was nothing compared to this one.

* * *

The next few days continued on like that. Sebastian would always enter the café when the customers were low in numbers, so conversations between us were not rare. Unsurprisingly, I found myself enjoying his company.

His speech was what originally drew me to him, but as I continued to keep to his presence, I noticed that his replies were all really well-thought out, and I often found myself looking forward to hearing his voice once again. He was wise beyond his years.

I often found myself in awe to his vast knowledge concerning politics, history, and everything in between and beyond. His reasoning on how things should be and why things _are_ were certainly refreshing compared to the views of most people. Valid were his words and fluid was his tone.

He certainly has a gift for story-telling.

In addition to that, Sebastian also had a passion for dramatics, which, indeed, took me by surprise. On my first encounter with him, I pegged him as the rather solemn type – and in most cases, he was. However, he could not stop his tone from taking a much more passionate, exaggerated note at times when the subject was of interest. I suppose he was comfortable enough at least a little of his true personality.

Take, for example, our brief conversation about domestic house pets. He enthused all about cats and specific breeds that I had never even heard of. He was rather let down when I told him of my preferring dogs, but quickly recovered once I urged him to speak freely of his fondness for cats – from their different coloured coats to their soft paws…

Sebastian was quite the character.

I found myself disappointed every time I had to part from his company.

However, I was also glad, for Sebastian seemed to be comfortable enough to speak freely of his opinion in my presence.

* * *

What was that saying?_ Nothing gold can stay_?

I suppose in some cases (or, should I say, in all), it is true.

Christmas had passed, and things were returning to normal in London. After an exciting holiday, everyone was adjusting back to their normal routine of work and other obligations. Due to the fact that I didn't do anything relatively special for Christmas, no adjusting was necessary. I was a bit saddened by that since this was the first Christmas I didn't spend with my family. However, with the shortage of money, and with living expenses tight, it could not be helped.

I sighed briefly, but then quickly maintained an optimistic smile. I could always see them on the summer.

There were still a few customers in line. It was nearing the end of my shift, and pretty soon, Tilly, a fellow worker, would have to take over for me. She recently returned from Yorkshire after vacationing.

"'ey, Darcy," she said greeted with a faraway tone as she emerged from the kitchens with a clean cloth. While her words were directed at me, her gaze was elsewhere.

My head tilted slightly in confusion. "Oh, hullo, Tilly. Is it already time for your shift?"

"Oh, yeah," she breathed out, blatantly distracted. What was keeping her attention?

"Say, Darcy," she began, her gaze never faltering, "Who _is_ that dishy chap by the doorway? He's _absolutely_ stunning."

I had my suspicion as to who this _dishy chap_ was. I didn't even need to gaze behind me to confirm my inkling. However, just to make sure, I did, and I was not at all disappointed.

I caught Sebastian's crimson gaze with my own. Giving a polite smile, he peeled off his winter coat from his person and folded it on his arm.

"That's Sebastian," I replied with a small grin, "He often comes here."

"_Sebastian_, hm?" she drawled his name out suggestively, "Sexy. D'you reckon I have a chance?"

I frowned slightly, but then quickly made my expression neutral.

Tilly, who seemed to have caught onto my displeasure, good-naturedly rolled her eyes and gave a sigh of disappointment, "I see you've already got claims."

Bowing my head low to hide the colour on my cheeks, I frantically shook my head no and protested, "It's not like that at all, Tilly."

Tilly merely laughed before ruffling my hair. "Oh, darling. No need to be ashamed. He's all yours."

At her words, I could feel the heat on my cheeks intensify. "Don't be silly."

"That's me, Silly-Tilly," she laughed.

It was then I realized that I disliked the idea of Sebastian being in a romantic relationship. However much I sincerely doubted him not having a girlfriend, with possessing such attractive features and the mannerism of a gentleman, it did not stop me from hoping otherwise. It was wishful thinking on my part.

I have… grown rather fond of him.

Sebastian – he just had so many interesting things to say about the world. His views were always so insightful and refreshing, and I never bore of our conversations.

However, I don't want to pursue anything other than friendship. That was just foolish – we had only known one another for less than three weeks. And, I admit, I was rather embarrassed since I was certain that he was already involved in a relationship.

I exhaled a small sigh at the thought.

"Good afternoon, Darcy," said Sebastian.

Willing my cheeks to cool, I attempted to regain my clam before I turned and faced Sebastian with a small smile. "Hello, Sebastian. What would you like today? The usual? My shift's almost over, so you can be my last customer for the day."

He gave a polite smile before shaking his head no.

"I actually would like to speak to you. Would it be alright if I were to escort you out?"

Startled by his sudden proposal, I glanced at Tilly, who merely gave a sly wink in my direction before walking over and relieving me of my duty on.

"O-oh, sure," I replied. "Could you… wait for a second?"

He placed his gloved hand lightly on his breast before giving a small bow.

"Of course."

* * *

The weather was not too horribly cold on that day, I think. Though the snow had stopped, piles of grey, day-old snow were still frozen. Still cold, but not terribly cold.

I didn't mind it all too much. At that time, I was far too busy minding where I stepped – the frozen pavement was rather slippery. When I glanced at Sebastian, he didn't seem to be having the slightest bit of trouble keeping his footing. I found myself slightly envious of his agility.

"Hold on to me, Miss Darcy," he said, offering me his arm. I grasped the sleeve of his jacket sheepishly and kept my gaze on the walkway.

I resisted the urge to look at him.

When I first met him, I did not pay much attention to Sebastian's features. Granted, I did notice that he was handsome and it wasn't every day that you encounter someone as attractive as him. However, only on that day did I _truly_ notice his beauty.

My grip on Sebastian's arm tightened as I stared onto the ground thoughtfully.

I suppose I haven't truly found him to be beautiful until I discovered how kind he was capable of being.

I felt myself shiver as a gust of frosty wind rolled by. With my free hand, I pulled the scarf higher on my neck.

"Are you cold, Miss Darcy?" asked Sebastian, concern etched on his pale features. Oh, he looked positively divine.

"Only a little," I responded quietly, my gaze straying to the ground.

I let out a small gasp when I felt his clothed finger touch my cheek. My eyes instantly ascended, and I watched as his lips carved into a small frown.

"You're chilling, my dear," he said, his brows furrowed slightly, his dark irises showing worry, "Perhaps we should return to the café."

I shook my head no and opened my mouth to respond, but then suddenly found that my voice was caught in my throat. I felt blood rush up to my cheeks in embarrassment. _My dear_…? Finally regaining my voice, I stuttered, "I-it's fine –really."

His frown remained and, in his dark crimson eyes, I was able to see something flash – a deeper emotion. However, as fast as it came, it left, and I wondered if it was even there in the first place.

It took me a minute to realize that we had stopped walking.

When Sebastian turned to face me, I saw that my hand was still gripping onto his coat. I made a movement to release him, but Sebastian quickly held onto my hand with both of his glove-clad palms.

Not knowing what else to do, I hurriedly shifted my gaze to my shoes.

"Forgive me," he whispered, but made no movement to release my hand. At this point, I was not sure what exactly he was apologizing for. "I've been meaning to speak to you for quite some time…"

I mentally scolded myself for imagining such things beyond this point. Really, wanting to speak to me could mean anything. I shouldn't get so far ahead of myself – perhaps Sebastian merely wanted to enquire about this weather…

Yeah, right, Darcy, the _weather_.

I gathered up all of my courage. I took a chance and finally gazed at him.

His eyes… they held a sort of tenderness to them.

I couldn't handle it. It was all too overwhelming. I only realized that I fancied Sebastian a few minutes ago, and now, this? It was all so surreal.

He reluctantly released my hands before slowly returning them on his sides.

For a moment, I thought that I had done something wrong. That is, until I felt an unfamiliar weight cradled on my palm. I slowly unfolded my fingers and saw a circular pocket watch with a sort of intricate crest carved on the front. It was connected to a worn, yet elegant, Albert chain. I looked up at Sebastian in question.

"This had been my companion for many years and I have always kept it close. I hope that you can value it as much as I have," he said with a soft smile.

I gazed at the silver pocket watch, and then at the man that gave it to me. "Why?" I uttered.

"It's a present – to remember me by."

"But… I thought you didn't celebrate Christmas."

He chuckled quietly before once again enclosing my hand in his gloved palm. "Not a Christmas gift, my darling. A good-bye present."

I quickly stared at him, bewildered. "You're leaving?" I uttered weakly.

_Nothing gold can stay. _

His dark eyes softened and he suddenly enclosed my figure around his arms in a light embrace. My eyed widened at the sudden contact, and I could feel my heart beat just a little faster. I slowly placed my empty palm on his back. He was warm.

"I will come for you," he uttered quietly against my hair, so soft that I could barely hear it against the passing cars. I was so sure that I misheard his words.

"I-I don't understand," I said against his scarf.

And suddenly he pulled away.

Sebastian smiled ruefully.

"I do hope that you will forgive me."

* * *

I mentally cursed the man known as Sebastian. Because of my encounter with him, I suddenly found that I could think of nothing else.

What was that all about? I didn't understand where all of the things he said came from. It was all so unreal.

Truthfully, I only imagined him to say that my feelings for him were reciprocated. I came to terms with my liking him, so of course I hoped that he would return the sentiments – but, as I said, that had only been wishful thinking. However, what happen was… it was not what I expected.

Sebastian… was an odd character.

I clutched on the silver pocket watch tightly. He said I won't be seeing him for a while.

And already, I couldn't help but miss him.

* * *

_Tell me what you think, please? I love reviews. _


	2. Shadows of Autumn

_Welcome to Phantasmagoric Theatre. _

**Editor's Note:**

_This chapter didn't take much editing because it was already cheesecake, and cheesecakes are perfect. And there were strawberries! Like Grell, because he is sweet and adds a great punch. Ohhhh._

-_Kevin_, the editor

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Lecila does not own Kuroshitsuji. _

* * *

Many months have passed before I would hear of Sebastian's whereabouts.

The first term of Oxford University began only the week previous, and I daresay it had gone by rather smoothly. With the help of my parents, I was able to rent a nice flat only a short cabdrive away from uni. In fact, the whole adjustment went by _so _well that I was rather wary of a sudden disaster to suddenly come up and ruin everything.

Michaelmas term started for the students of Oxford University. The slow pace of vacation quickly took an abrupt turn for us, for the professors were quick to pile us with much work and stretch us to what we were capable of. If one wanted to do well in Oxford, one had to give it his all.

However, despite my rather busy year of constantly planning and managing my priorities, I often found myself thinking of that man – the curious customer whose eyes rivaled the hues of garnet.

_Sometimes, I would think that he'd forgotten about me. _

I exhaled a small sigh and gingerly pulled out the silver pocket watch.

_But one look at this antique treasure and somehow, all of my previous doubts seemed to evaporate._

After all, to have given away something like this... I must have done something worth remembering, right?

I hoped so.

It was odd, though. The hands of the pocket watch were broken and I could not find the battery dispenser without completely dismantling the object. Why would he give me a broken pocket watch?

I stopped walking and gazed at the sky. It was a nice day. An oddity – I could have easily mistaken it to be summer. Cloudless, it was, and the sky shone a bright cerulean. I had to shield my eyes from the powerful rays.

Somewhere out there, wherever _he_ was, I hoped that everything was running as smoothly as it had been for me.

* * *

_"Sebastian?"_

I was surprised, to say the least. Surprised, bewildered, awed,_ glad._

After our last encounter at Dose Expresso, I thought it unlikely that Sebastian and I would ever see each other again. After all, we never exchanged anything close to a phone number, much less an e-mail address, and so we had no way of communication. The only thing that kept us connected, I think, was that silver pocket watch.

As much as that thought dismayed me, I knew it was inevitable. He had his priorities and I had mine. I only wished that our time had been longer.

I suppose that was why I felt so relieved when I saw him.

Oddly enough, despite his outer face of shock at seeing me, I was able to tell it for what it was – a façade. Though, at that time, I was quick to brush it off, his reaction baffled me. However, being caught up in the moment rather pushed it all out of the way.

His soft, crimson irises were distracting, and I was just too happy at seeing the sincere smile on his face.

Despite admitting to my fancying him before, that wasn't the absolute reason why I was elated by seeing him. His company was very valuable to me and the friendship that we had during the winter –no matter how small it may have been– was something that I enjoyed. Liking him in that sense was just an added bonus, I think.

Even if I had not taken a liking to Sebastian in a romantic sense, the joy I felt at seeing him after all of these months would not have lessened.

His smile never once faltering, he replied, "Darcy. This was certainly unexpected."

His voice brought a smile on my face. I never tire of hearing his pleasant British lilt. It amazed me how he retained that accent with everyone else's being so modern– and I vaguely wondered where he had gotten it in the first place.

I was thinking of some proper, intelligible words to reply to his greeting, but I found that my voice has caught in my throat once again. It seemed to happen a lot when I was in his presence. So instead, I merely stared at him, with my mouth slightly opened like a fool.

Seeming to read my reaction as utter bewilderment– either that or being kind enough to spare me the humiliation– Sebastian's smile softened and he explained with an equally gentle tone, "I had business here in Oxford, and seeing as this University is one of the world's noted, I thought to myself, 'why not see it?' Imagine my surprise at finding you here, Miss Darcy."

"O-oh, yes," I said. I mentally cursed my stutter. Here I was, talking to a knowledgeable friend that I just happen to have a fancy for, whom I haven't seen since about eight or seven months ago, and the first thing I uttered was the notorious exclamation of _oh_.

I vaguely wondered whether I was the only person he affected in this way. As soon as I thought it, I instantly felt stupid– of course not. With his look, Sebastian must be popular with the girls everywhere. I was a little saddened by that fact– after all, I was only one of the many.

"I go to school here," I replied in an attempt to redeem myself.

"You were merely visiting London last winter, then?" Sebastian inquired politely.

It was fortunate that Sebastian and I were heading towards the same direction. I wanted to have an excuse to continue talking to him.

I shook my head no before hugging the books tighter to my chest. "I was merely saving up enough money to afford Oxford's tuition. At the time... London seemed like the best place for jobs."

Sebastian frowned. "Is it not?"

"Oh, it is," I assured. "It's just that, well, perhaps Oxford would have given the same opportunity."

My companion gave a soft smile. "Had you chosen an alternative path, I'm confident that you would have found yourself at the prestigious school of Oxford once more."

Having a simple conversation about nothing was everything. Even if Sebastian dismissed it as not important, I would have to disagree. I haven't seen him for months, and yet this was the most comfortable I've felt since I've moved from London.

It felt normal.

* * *

And just as each time Sebastian had left the café during those long, winter days, I felt myself disappointed once more when Sebastian bid his farewell. I had hoped to see him more, and became more disappointed when he said that today was his last day in town.

When I asked him of his business here in Oxford, he became as withdrawn as ever.

Perhaps I had made my disappointment too blatant, for he assured me that then that since he knew which uni I was going to, he would find it easier to contact me– which actually did affect me in a way that Sebastian expected, since I calmed. Though, I wondered why we couldn't just exchange numbers or something along those lines.

And soon enough, the passing days turned into a week.

* * *

It was Saturday, and for that, I was glad. Though I was thankful that I got accepted to Oxford, the workload was nothing short of overbearing. The lectures themselves were tolerable and the professors kind, but they don't let you off easy.

I sighed as I thought of all the work assigned to us. It wasn't at all like what they expected from us the previous school year. And I was expected to have it all finished before Monday.

I pulled my coat tighter around my form as I absentmindedly took a turn about the building. It was getting rather chilly. Odd– it's been warm all week. Perhaps it was going to rain.

Since I haven't had a chance to recently with all the courses going on, I decided to take a small break and explore for a bit. Seeing as I was going to be at uni for a while (hopefully), I might as well get acquainted with what would soon be my second home.

I really did admire the gothic architecture. I had always liked historical sites, and the University of Oxford was no exception. I felt a sense of pride at the fact that I had the privilege of being a student in such a school.

"Oh, Darse, I certainly didn't expect you to be alone~"

Startled, I was quick to turn my head. I didn't notice anyone around this area and was alarmed by the new arrival. I assumed that the other students were either back in their flats due to the rather ominous weather– I was certain that it was going to pour soon.

I blinked in bewilderment. "Hello," I greeted politely. Truth to be told, I was nothing short of wary around this newcomer. I've never met him before that day, and so I was rather suspicious as to how he knew my name. However, I knew it was better to be kind– after all, there was no convenient aid and I didn't know what the stranger was capable of. "Do I know you?"

This man– I suppose that there was no other way of saying it– he was beautiful. Red, luscious hair that had obviously been well-groomed with short fringes that framed his face. Had he been facing the opposite direction, I was sure that I would have recognized him as a woman– oh, wouldn't that have been embarrassing. His eyes, though, behind the framed spectacles that matched his hair, were what caught my attention. Just as I had first taken notice of Sebastian's garnet irises, this man's luminescent hues glowed like a gem. They were so unusual-looking that I was almost convinced that the colour was the work of artificially-made contacts.

"Don't you recognize me?" he said, the edges of his lips pulling to a small frown, "I'm in your history class."

I stared at him. This man certainly was _not_ in my history class. There were many students in the room, but I no doubt would have noticed him right away– his radiant hair stood out, after all.

"So..." I trailed off, attempting to sound casual, "what did you think of Professor Seymour's lecture?"

"_Dull,_" he drawled with a roll of his oddly-coloured eyes, "That teacher didn't know what the hell he was talking about."

First of all, I was rather surprised that he managed to brush off my question without even batting an eyelash– If he _was _lying, I applauded him for his acting skills. However, I was not fully convinced that he was in my class. His answer could have meant anything. My surprise quickly turned to curiosity. I thought Professor Seymour was rather brilliant.

"What... makes you say that?" I asked. If he managed to answer that, then it would have been enough proof to confirm his claim of being part of my class.

"_Well,_" he lengthened the word dramatically, his flamboyant speech never once faltering as he placed a glove-clad finger on his chin, "didn't he ever consider some of the later killings after Kelly to have been committed by a copy-cat?"

"You can't say that Professor didn't know what he was talking about, seeing as the Jack the Ripper case is not even close to being solved– and I daresay that it never will," I half-heartedly argued on the Professor's behalf.

"Maybe so," the crimson-haired man shrugged.

I supposed that his response marked the end of the conversation, so I turned to leave.

"Wait, _wait!_" he called out loudly in a whinging manner. He jogged on the stone steps, his heels loudly clacking against them. Once he had easily caught up to me, his steps immediately slowed. Stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, he then offhandedly said, "So tell me what you think of that killer."

"Jack the Ripper? I'm not sure. I haven't given it any particular thought."

"Really?" the man said with a raised brow. "That's rather hard to believe. Even after a hundred years later, the Ripper case _always_ brought out people's curiosity somehow."

"Killing's wrong," I said, as if a newly-found declaration. And then, I looked at him and gave a small smile, "But I'm sure that everyone's already said that whenever any murder case is brought up. I agree, of course. So because of that, I disapprove of promoting the name of a killer."

"It's not really much of a promotion if everyone already knows it," he shrugged.

It was my turn to shrug, "Maybe so. The Ripper case's never really piqued my interest, however."

The man beside me hummed. "That's certainly odd. The fact that the killer's identity remains a mystery to this day doesn't arouse the slightest bit of curiosity in you? _At all?_"

"Not really," I said, with a slight lift of my shoulders.

"So..." the odd, crimson-haired man's lips slowly lifted in a large smile, his eyes sparkling mischievously, "If I were to say that I am– oh, _I don't know_– Jack the Ripper... Then what would you say?" He let off a slight giggle, as if enjoying a sort of private joke.

I blinked at him as I walked.

"I'd probably say that you're mental."

"Oh?" he responded, his grin not once faltering, "Alright then, _humour me_. If I were Jack the Ripper, then what would you do?"

I gazed at the grey sky briefly before my eyes flickered over to him. "I don't know."

Only then did his smile drop to a frown. "Oh, come now, you're no fun at all. You don't know? _Really?_ No questions asked? _None at all?_"

It really did seem like he wanted my honest opinion. I wasn't at all against his pressing. Professor Seymour assigned us a paper about Victorian England. Jack the Ripper must have been his chosen topic.

"Oh... well, I suppose I'd ask him what it was about those women that made him kill them."

"A perfectly legitimate question," he said, his grin returning.

"Although," I said thoughtfully, "I do wonder why most of everyone assumes the killer to be a man. Back then, I'm sure that they refused to believe a woman was capable of such a thing. But why not? Women were permitted to become medical doctors in 1865, after all, so it gave them the appropriate knowledge to dismantle a body."

"So why do you supposed the killer murdered all of those prostitutes?" he enthused. He was rather taken by the conversation.

"I'm not sure..." I trailed off. "The proper incentive of a murder usually involves emotions. Maybe he–or she–had a personal vendetta."

"Envy, perhaps?" he suggested innocently, his mischievous grin still in place.

"Envious? Of what?" I inquired, a little confused.

He shrugged, as if he hadn't given the idea any thought at all. His eyes, however– his lustrous eyes– lost its sparkle. "Maybe it's just the fact that these _women_ took advantage of a gift that should have been respected."

My eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "Because they're prostitutes...?"

In an instant, he seemed to have regained his bearings and once more, his voice returned with the usual exaggeration of before. "Don't you think that perhaps they _deserved_ it? After all, the ability to give life is a blessing. And there they were– tarnishing and taking it all for granted."

At his words, I frowned. Underneath the layer of mockery, I could sense a hint of anger, frustration... and envy.

"I disagree," I said softly, hoping to pacify and possible ire on his part concerning our different opinions. He stared at me critically, with one brow raised, as if wanting me to elaborate. "Those women– they did what they had to do to survive. At that time, prostitution was the only option they had left to live– it was the only thing they could offer. And for that, I don't think we should condemn them."

He stopped walking, and I found that I had as well. However, his stare never once faltered. But as I stared back, I noticed that his features had softened, and I could tell that he was deep in thought.

And then suddenly, he smiled.

It was not like the smile he gave all of those previous times– this one was not of amusement or mockery. No, this one held a different kind of sincerity.

"You actually managed to make me feel regretful," he declared humorously, if not a little rueful.

I blinked in bewilderment. "Pardon?"

He then gave a soft chuckle and shook his head, sending strand of crimson hair in different directions on his pale face. He did not respond.

I stared at him for a few seconds.

_What an odd fellow. _

"What's your name?" I asked suddenly.

And only then did he gain that toothy grin.

"Grell Sutcliff," he declared with exaggerated flare, bringing his leather-clad hand up in a peace sign. "And don't you forget it, darling~"

I let out a small laugh and attempted to cover it up with a lightly-clenched fist. I then replied with, "It's nice to meet you, Grell. My name's Darcy Bishop."

_What a character. _

Just when I laughed, I noticed his once toothy grin close into a soft smile with his head tilted slightly to one side. He lifted his hand and motioned for me to come closer.

With a soft sigh, he brought one hand up and placed it lightly on the back of my neck while the other gloved hand rested underneath my chin. I stilled, startled, and I brought my eyes up to his in alarm, but upon seeing his rather serene expression that I haven't yet seen on him before, I calmed.

Grell seemed content with just... _staring_. Flickering from every feature on my face.

He then shut his eyes tightly, hiding away his brightly-coloured irises, and I assumed he was rather conflicted about something. When his eyes opened once again, I was rather startled by their solemnity.

"From this point on," he uttered quietly, lightly running a hand through the unruly hair on my neck, "I'm not certain on what is going to happen to you."

"W-what? I don't know..." I began. His strange tone and somber expression brought me to a slight panic.

He inhaled deeply before stooping down so that his crystal-like eyes were directly leveled with mine. "Stay calm, my dear," he said, his tone softer, "I can feel your heartbeat quicken. I promise you, it will all be over– you won't feel anything."

"W-what are you talking about?" I stammered shakily. I attempted to break loose from his hold, but his grip kept me in place– not enough to cause me harm, but certainly strong enough to detain me.

He clenched his eyes tightly once again, and I heard him mutter, "That demon, _where the hell are you?_"

"Please, j-just let me go," I pleaded, attempting to break his hold.

He leaned his face closer to mine, his nose softly sweeping the fringes of my forehead away, placing a light kiss on my brow. "'And with a kiss...'" Grell recited.

I clenched my eyes together and prepared myself for whatever pain he was going to cause me.

..._I die_.

A loud clang of metal suddenly gained my attention. I opened my eyes only to realize that Grell was now a few feet away from me, gripping a chainsaw easily in his right hand. Had I looked closer, I would have recognized the expression on his face to be relief. However, I was more preoccupied. Confused as to what it was that drove him away, I could only stare at the pair of silverware that was stuck on the ground by my feet– the place where that red-headed man was occupying only seconds ago.

To my alarm and horror, I saw Grell grinning at something over my head. But what caught my attention was the jagged teeth that he suddenly possessed.

_Wh... what was going on?!_

"Oh, Bassy~" Grell cooed, swinging the metal weapon in the air with blatant expertise, "Still using the brat's dishes? You never do change!"

Bassy...?

_Sebastian?!_

When I turned around, I could only stare in awe as a figure in black jumped from the top of the roof, only to land languidly on the ground.

"I had hoped that you knew better than to touch what is mine."

* * *

**Important: **_Yes, OOC. You can interpret what happen between Grell and Darcy any way that you want, but the fact still remains that this fanfiction is a Sebastian/OC. I just needed to get that out of the way. But anyways, there will be Sebastian/Darcy fluff in the next chapter, so don't you worry, my little dumplings. _

_And also, if you have any suggestions regarding the romance between Darcy and Sebastian or anything else, feel free to tell me~ _

_Also, I promise that the canon characters will act in character later._

_And by the way. Fanart on my profile. _

_I hope you guys review. C: It makes my day and brings me to write the next chapter faster~_


	3. Transition to Spring

_Welcome to Phantasmagoric Theatre_

_**Editor's Note:**_

_The previously light, fluffy cheesecake is heating up! In the defense of my mindless lollygagging, editing is difficult whilst rowing a boat in the middle of an endless ocean._

-Kevin, _the editor_

**Disclaimer:** _Yana Toboso owns everything canon of Kuroshitsuji. _

* * *

And with a harsh pull of his wrist, the chainsaw roared to life.

However, it didn't seem to have an effect on Sebastian in the slightest. On the contrary, though his facial expression was solemn and he did not have the slightest trace of that polite smile on his face, his attitude depicted mere boredom. However, boredom didn't mean inattentiveness.

The complete opposite of me, who was frightened beyond belief. How foolish I was to have stayed still in my position. I didn't even possess enough of my composure– or perhaps enough of my sanity– to make the slightest movement. But in any case, I remained. What could I have done, really? If Sebastian was capable of jumping from a bloody 100-feet building and that man Grell was able to dodge a set of butter knives so readily, then chasing me was probably child's play.

One question kept repeating in my mind.

_What the hell was going on?_

"Calm yourself, Grell," said Sebastian, "And still that infernal noise."

His voice had lost the trace of warmth that I was so used to and was, instead, cold, indifferent, and his harsh lilt was cutting. Even his crimson irises, which I always thought were pleasant to look at, were flashing in an almost feral manner. I found that I could not hold his hostility.

I did not recognize this Sebastian.

And instantly, that red-haired man, Grell, stilled his whirring chainsaw to a stop. Had I gotten over my initial shock at discovering super-beings and silverware for weapons, I would have been surprised that he actually complied with Sebastian's wish.

"Oh, _Bassy,_" he sighed with that exaggerated mocking tone of his, delicately brushing his crimson fringes from his forehead with the tips of his gloved fingers, "you're in such a foul mood today."

"Can you really blame me?" he said dryly. "Your _friend's_ unexpected appearance made me quite ill-tempered. Such an unnecessary _nuisance_," he spat. His garnet eyes hardened to steel as he glared at Grell in accusation.

Grell didn't seem to be deterred in the slightest by Sebastian's animosity, though he did have the decency to put on a sheepish front. His alarmingly sharp teeth flashed to an unnerving grin.

And then, he pouted, a light blush coloring his pale face as he poked an index finger to his cheek in a childish manner. "I'm so sorry, _Bassy,_ my love. I wish you and William would get along. Then we could all play nicely~" At that, he gave Sebastian a lecherous wink.

Sebastian gave a visible shudder as his facial expression darkened. "That's repulsing."

Grell merely shrugged. He didn't seem to care all that much, really.

"I swear, it was unplanned. I was actually counting on Ronald to be my partner for this mission, but William had to fill in for overtime."

Sebastian sighed. "It's just my luck to have that annoying bastard after my tail."

"It doesn't matter, darling," Grell assured offhandedly as he lifted the chainsaw up easily with one hand and leaned it against his shoulder. "We're already assured of the results– we've gone past it, after all. All we have to do is follow God's plan, hm?"

Though Sebastian's expression remained impassive, his crimson eyes spoke of his uncertainty. "God doesn't particularly favor me, you must remember."

"Oh, _poo_. Don't be such a stick, Sebastian– it was only an expression," Grell said, giggling– as if reveling over a private joke.

Sebastian inhaled deeply. "In any case, I need you to keep watch. I must speak to Darcy."

Grell frowned. "But I want to talk to Darcy, too! This is the first time in _years_–"

Sebastian flashed him a cold glare. It was enough to silence his protests.

Grell merely sighed before raising one hand up in defense. He then gave me a wink with a close-lipped smile before saying, in that playful tone, "It was _fantastic _seeing you, my sweet~"

That was all he said before he jumped and literally ran up on the walls of the building– the one that Sebastian jumped from.

When he could see no sign of that red-haired Grell, Sebastian placed both of his palms on my still shoulders.

All of the enmity and hostility in his garnet eyes that he previously possessed suddenly seemed to wash away as he look at me. His expression softened, and a small smile grew on his lips. However, I was able to see a heavy layer of weariness on his features. Even despite his evident exhaust, I could not help but feel a bit of relief seep into my core.

Before that moment, I felt like I've been thrust into a dimension unlike that I was so used to– a dimension on which nothing made sense, and all the answers only made me more bewildered than I had been previously. But when I looked into the familiar garnet irises of Sebastian– those that were not filled with so much malevolence– I felt relieved at seeing something so familiar.

"You are unharmed," he uttered quietly.

To my surprise, he leaned down and gently buried his face against the crook of my neck before lightly wrapping his lithe arms around my shoulders. Even through my state of alarm and bewilderment, I was somehow able to process how... how soft his hair was against my skin. How thrilling it felt to have his lips slightly parted against my neck. How light his touches were. _He was so careful. _

And just as the last time he embraced me, my heart skipped, my blood raced, and though I willed it to slow, I knew that it was futile. I lightly, hesitantly, touched his back with my palm. And, just as before, he felt warm.

"_Sebastian_..."

He held me firmly upon hearing my quiet utterance. His grip remained gentle, however, and I could have pulled away had I wanted to. But I didn't seem to have the will to detach myself from his embrace.

Sebastian had not acted so physically affectionate since his departure last winter.

"You do not understand the complexity as to how much I desire your touch, my dearest," he whispered against the skin of my throat. So soft were they uttered that I doubted my own senses as to whether or not I had actually heard him correctly. "It has been so long..."

"S-Sebastian...? I don't understand what's happening," I stuttered, still in alarm. The only thing that kept my head clear was his rather overwhelming presence. He had been my support. Tracing the soft patterns of his dark blazer had been enough to keep my thoughts straight.

"Forgive me," he breathed, slowly pulling his face away from my skin– only enough to properly see my eyes. His garnet hues, in turn, shone with content. His face, usually so composed and beautiful, simply looked tired. "It is most improper of me to have suddenly bestowed you with such affection."

And yet, even as he said that, he made no indication of releasing me from his touch.

From the way his brows furrowed slightly, I could tell that he saw the pure bewilderment and alarm on my face. His eyelids lowered slightly and a small smile graced his lips. He lightly ran his gloved fingertips on the crease of my brow– so light that I barely felt the cloth brush against my skin– until he stopped and finally rested his palm on my cheek.

"You're chilling, my dear," he said– an utterance not but a whisper. _Just like last winter..._

I opened my mouth to answer, but that seemed to be the only thing I was capable of doing. I couldn't utter a single word. Sebastian seemed read that on my face, because he gave a small sigh.

"I'm afraid... I cannot explain anything to you at the moment," he said as his garnet irises bored into mine.

I could do nothing else but stare into his eyes.

Crimson.

Red.

_Blood red. _

Was I foolish to have brushed it off as a sort of genetic defect? This being, so beautiful, so _dangerous_... Charismatic, he was, yet deadly, he proved to be. His unbelievable– impossible– agility when he presented himself... his cold, malevolent demeanor when in the presence of Grell Sutcliff...

At that moment, his crimson eyes stood out clearer than they ever had.

"_What... who are you?_"

His lips parted slightly and his brow creased. His eyes– his unnaturally blood-red eyes– glazed as he regarded me with calm and... sadness. It was as if he expected the question. However, his expression was the one of recognition from a distant memory.

"I am... your protector, your guardian. Until the day comes when you tire of me, I vow to _always._.. be faithful."

His words affected me. They were so well-versed and I was surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. He and I– we might as well have been strangers. It was as if he were professing his feelings before we even got to know each other. But... how he spoke to me– it was as if he _knew _me already.

Before I could come up with any sort of valid response, he closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against mine. A quiet gasp was caught in my chest and I felt blood rush up to my face. Though he could not see me, even through the thin cloth that separated his fingers from my skin, I was so certain that he could feel my cheek's sudden heat.

Sebastian merely smiled, his eyes still closed, and gently caressed the skin beneath my eye with his thumb.

We did not speak for what seemed like an eternity.

However, the silence only made my thoughts seem louder in my ears than they actually were.

_What's going on?_

_Who are these people?_

The redundancy of these rather cliché questions did nothing at all to lessen my curiosity and pacify my alarm. Once or twice, I attempted to convince myself that I was in a dream, Sebastian was not really there, and that the red-haired Grell Sutcliff was just a beautiful image conjured up by my hazy mind due to my falling asleep on a program about sharks and home repairs on telly. As I clenched the fabric of Sebastian's blazer, I knew that it was not the case.

Sebastian suddenly stiffened.

His relaxed features stilled and his relaxed demeanor was quick to depict alertness. His eyes opened, and I became even more alarmed, for I was certain that I saw feral, cat-like pupils dilate inside luminescent fuschia. It disappeared to crimson soon after.

Before I could process anything that was going on, the hand on my cheek slipped on the back of my head while Sebastian's other hand firmly held onto my back and pressed me against his chest.

And then he jumped ten feet away.

My eyes shut firmly on their own accord and I could do nothing more than clutch onto Sebastian's clothing as I felt the distinct feeling of my stomach churning with anxiety as we dropped to the ground.

When I opened my eyes, I became even more alarmed upon seeing a long, metal rod protruding from the ground. On its end, the point that jutted deep from the ground, was a pair of metal sheers.

On the rod's other end, however, was a man. His leather-clad hand gripped on the metal pole with such ease, with such expertise. How deep the blade was buried in the ground surprised me– the sheer power had caused large cracks on the concrete platform. What caught my attention was the calm, indifferent expression on his face.

The man– his attire was very proper. Everything about this man was orderly– I could not spot a single wrinkle out of place in his dark, tailored suit. Even his dark hair was perfectly parted. What caught my attraction, however, were the luminescent, cat-like irises behind his metal-rimmed spectacles. They were _exactly_ like that man, Grell Sutcliff.

"This is exactly why I simply _despise_ your kind," the man coldly stated. He pulled the metal rod back to his side and pushed his glasses up by the sharp end with the garden shears.

Had my thoughts not been in such a state of disarray, I would have found their choices of weapons simply ludicrous.

I looked up at Sebastian, whose grip on my person had not faltered. His crimson eyes remained hard and hostile as his glare remained on that man, though a polished, malicious smile graced his lips. I felt myself shiver. No, this... this wasn't Sebastian.

This was the face of a demon.

"Are you harmed, my dear?" he uttered quietly.

It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me.

"F-fine."

"_Mr. Spears,_" Sebastian stated politely, though he drew the name as if it were something distasteful.

"_Sebastian Michaelis_," that man, Spears, said with equal distaste. His eyes narrowed slightly. "If you still refer to yourself by that title, that is."

_Michaelis?_ Was that his last name?

"I have grown rather attached to that name," he replied coolly.

Spears sighed in a weary manner. "You demons are the bane of my otherwise perfect life. Next to that insufferable reaper, that is."

"Where is Grell?" Sebastian said. Though his tone depicted a certain calmness, I could hear the demand of the question.

"Busy," the man merely replied.

Sebastian's garnet eyes narrowed dangerously. However, he remained silent.

"I'm not so foolish as to leave a matter so important to a reaper with obvious attachments to this"– his luminescent gaze briefly flickered from Sebastian to me– "intended soul."

"And so you decided to accompany Grell."

"Of course. After all, if you want something done right, you must do it yourself."

Sebastian's eyes kept straying from that man to the surroundings behind him. He appeared to be waiting for something. Spears seemed to have noticed. The lenses of his glasses flashed briefly against the light as his head tilted slightly. He regarded Sebastian with curious, almost-triumphant expression, though it quickly vanished.

"You are waiting for Grell, I presume?" that man remarked casually.

Sebastian made no answer.

"You will be disappointed to find that I am in the possession of _this_," he said. From behind him, he pulled a chainsaw– the one that Grell previously had– with his free hand.

Thought Sebastian made no visible reaction, from his suddenly rigid posture, I could detect his alarm.

"I have to give you both credit– had I not been so attentive, I daresay that your plan would have worked." Suddenly, the stoic man's expression suddenly hardened and his voice became strained. "Do you not know the intensity of the damage that you could have caused to the natural order of life?"

Sebastian allowed a brief smirk to grace his lips.

"Of course not," Spears scoffed coldly, his expression once again set in stone, "you care of no one but yourself."

As before, he did not grace Spears with an answer, though I felt his grip on my waist strengthen considerably. Spears seem to have noticed it, for his brow rose slightly. And then, he chuckled. Not a laugh that came from something humorous, but rather a hollow laugh that diverted from incredulity and disbelief.

"Could it be? I never thought it possible," he uttered, ending with a quiet scoff. "For a mere human to have ensnared both a divine and infernal being such as a reaper and a _vermin_..."

"Sebastian, what's going on?" I asked quietly. My clutch on his blazer faltered as I realized how tight my grip had been.

Sebastian's mouth opened slightly, as if preparing to answer. However, Spears beat him to it. Though both of his hands were rather full with the gardening tools, he managed to pull out a clipboard from the inner of his coat pocket.

"I am William T. Spears," he stated professionally. His bright yet impassive gaze shifted from Sebastian to me. I found that I could not hold his sharp gaze, and so settled on looking over a distant object over his shoulder.

"Darcy Bishop," he said, reading off of the clipboard's pages, "as of approximately eight months ago, on the 18th of January, your name has been listed on the To-Die list. However, due to certain _interferences_"– he gave a pointed glance at Sebastian– "your lifespan had been prolonged without the board's approval. As we are only servants of fate, I cannot allow such an occurrence to pass without consequence.

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid you must die."

And everything suddenly stilled.

_To-Die list..._

Die...

_I'm afraid you must die._

...must die.

_Death._

Murderers.

Who wanted me dead?

"_Stop it_," Sebastian cut in harshly. With a last scathing glare in that man William's direction, he lowered his eyes to look at mine. I barely felt his hand rest on my shoulder. I barely felt his fingers brush away my hair. "Do not listen to him, Darcy."

I nodded. What was I nodding for? His words only drifted in my mind, but I could not comprehend it.

Sebastian's expression only changed to concern as he brought a hand to my hair. Suddenly, a revelation seemed to dawn on him, as his eyes suddenly widened. And then, he smiled, before he slowly lowered his face to my ear and whispered, "I vow... to protect you, Darcy Bishop, from harm's way."

A sudden chill ran through my body.

"_William!_"

In my state of haze, I was able to recognize that voice to be of Grell Sutcliff. He swiftly descended from a nearby building before languidly dropping on the ground before William T. Spears, his crimson coat fluttering behind him.

My mind could not seem to process anything at that moment.

Grell's voice lost its playful tone. Instead, his voice was sharp, solemn, and unforgiving.

"Stand aside, Grell Sutcliff," said William, his tone equally sharp, yet it held a certain coldness. "Your business here is done. You led me to that demon."

Grell grinned. It was not the sort of humorous or mocking grin that I had seen on him before. No, this grin... was that of a maniac. A savage sort of grin that could only be found on the face of someone willing to do harm. The exposure of his jagged teeth only added to my horror.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he trailed off.

Without the slightest bit of warning, Grell ran at William before angling his foot directly towards his torso. Seeming startled upon the unexpected attack, William quickly brought up the metal rod and blocked the crimson-haired man from causing him harm.

And from then on, their movement became a blur. I could hardly keep up with their movements from where I stood. It hurt to look, but I could not seem to tear my eyes away from the scene. The only evidence left by their fighting was the cracks and damage on the concrete pavement below them.

Sebastian then quickly brought his palms to my shoulders and in one swift movement turned me so that his figure blocked my view of the attack.

Though his expression was somber, all traces of the hostility he showed vanished from his face. His garnet eyes looked over every part of my face, as if determining if I was harmed.

"We don't have much time," he uttered, "So you must listen carefully, Darcy." His eyes bore into my own. "The next time you meet me, I will not be as I am now, and for that, I beg for your forgiveness," he said ruefully. "However, you must not doubt my intentions to keep you from harm's way. Promise me that you will not intentionally seek out danger."

As I searched his beautiful, pale face for answers I knew that I would not find, I could only nod with vigor.

His eyes softened with relief. As he brushed his hand on my cheek, he leaned forward and gently placed a light kiss upon my forehead.

The movement itself was barely noticeable. I felt his body jerk forward and his muscles stiffen.

I felt something warm drip from my forehead.

My eyes widened when I saw crimson drip from the side of Sebastian's mouth.

_It matched the color of his eyes. _

His eyes, half-lidded, as he gazed at me. His mouth, still formed in a half smile.

I felt my breath caught in my throat when my gaze drifted on his chest. Through the all of the blood, I was able to see the sharp tip of the garden shears protrude from his chest.

Right where his heart was supposed to be.

"_Ne sois pas triste_," he uttered softly in gasping breaths, gently brushing my cheek with his fingertips, "_ma petite chérie._"

I did not even realize that I had been crying.

When I lifted my eyes to meet his, I saw the long, metal rod of the garden shears connect back to William T. Spears' hand.

Sebastian grimaced in pain, but he managed to grab my hand and place a familiar weight on my palm. When I opened it, I saw that I expected– the broken pocket watch that he gave me. It escaped me to question how he had gotten it from me without my knowing.

His crimson eyes gazed at me softly. Though I didn't know how he did it through all of the pain, he managed a small smile.

Without even the slightest warning, he brought my hand to his chest and scraped the tip of the garden shears that jutted out from his chest against the crest of the pocket watch.

A bright light emanated.

And when I opened my eyes, I was in a dream.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

_Yeees. Finally, we're getting down to the actual plot of the story. I'm sorry it took so long. Anyways, this is a very important chapter for the future plot. No more OOC-ness after this~_

_I'm sure many of you've guessed at what's going to happen next. Or maybe not. I don't know. _

_I do hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Did anything confuse you? I'll clarify if it doesn't give anything away. I'm just here... to tell you... that that dream comment is just, er, one of those expressions. I mean, it's not _really_ a dream. Okay. I'll stop now. _

_Thank you so much for the reviews. I appreciate them. Really. You guys are amazing._

_I finally edited the... obvious mistakes. Kevin, we are going to have a talk. e -e;;_

I hope you like this chapter enough to leave a couple more reviews. It really does motivate me to update faster. C:


	4. A Chill in Summer

_Welcome to Phantasmagoric Theatre. _

And so the madness ensues.

**Disclaimer**: _Lecila hereby disclaims Black Butler. _

* * *

Even through my closed eyelids, I could see the harsh light of the sun. The slight heat of the rays gently swept against my cheeks and forehead. The air– it was... it was oddly warm.

_Why?_

It was the middle of autumn– in the late afternoon, at that. The sun was half-way down. There could have been no chance of sunlight. It would have broken the daily ritual of man if the sun were to revolve the opposite direction.

_So where was all this light coming from?_

I opened my eyes, but was instantly assaulted by bright blue.

Bright blue...?

I opened my eyes, slowly this time, but was baffled by the sudden change in scenery. The sky was an almost blinding colour of bright blue. Soft chirps of what I recognized as the calling of birds assaulted my ears.

My first instant reaction was to rub my eyes- I don't know how many times I tried to convince myself that I was dreaming. However, I was quick to jerk my hand away upon feeling a warm liquid smudge on my skin.

Blood.

Crimson.

_Sebastian._

I stared at my hand, stained in crimson red. The same blood from Sebastian's severe chest wound, inflicted by that man–_ or was it too much of a stretch to even refer to them as men?–_ William T. Spears. A fatal wound right through the heart...

I inhaled a shaky breath. _I think I'm going to be sick._

And then, I quickly wiped the sticky, rather disturbing liquid from my skin onto my trousers as best as I could. It was still warm, and it hasn't even dried yet, meaning that it hadn't been so long since that... rather bizarre and alarming incident.

Despite the sudden situation that I've most abruptly been thrust into, I could not stop myself from worrying about Sebastian Michaelis. That wound that he received by that sharp garden shears... I was afraid to think of the worst. _What if he's dead?_

I vigorously shook my head. No. There was no time to think of that. I would only succeed in driving myself to insanity.

My first priority was to find out where I was.

How was it possible that I suddenly found myself in another place...? I was in the University of Oxford– that was the last I remembered. A man named Grell Sutcliff– crimson-haired and beautiful, I remembered– suddenly approached me and inquired about my opinion on Jack the Ripper.

And then what happen?

Sebastian appeared– he was hostile, I remembered, to everyone else. But he was kind to me. Not once did I see his crimson eyes laced with ill intent towards me. And then that stiff man William T. Spears came.

_He said I had to die._

I quickly shook the thoughts from my head. No, this was no time to linger onto things that didn't matter. The only important thing was that I was _not_ dead.

_Or was I?_

It would certainly have explained the change in scenery. And light was something that's associated with Heaven, so perhaps that explanation wasn't so bizarre. Was I so presumptuous as to believe that I would end up in Heaven when I die?

I quickly brought my other hand– the one without the blood– with the intention of running it through my short hair. However, I was quick to withdraw it upon realizing that I had something clutched onto it.

Sebastian's pocket watch.

He had brought the pocket watch up to the garden shears and scratched the crest.

I idly brought my thumb up and caressed the visible damage.

It was the only thing that convinced me that I was sane– that I wasn't dreaming. And it also convinced me that I hadn't died.

I quickly hid it in my pocket for safe-keeping.

I took a look around me. I was surrounded by green– tall trees, mostly, from the outside forest. All around were well-kept bushes and the fines floras of the season. There was a line of metals that indicated the land's borders a few feet from where I was. Below my feet was a row of solid pavement– it lead up to the dirt road outside the black gates.

I expected someone to direct me to the dirt road. Perhaps I was to follow it, like that story the _Wizard of Oz_.

I suddenly felt woozy. _Oh dear, where was I?_

I stumbled a bit backwards, my hand clutching my hair, but reacted quickly once I felt the back of my legs hit something solid. I felt a sudden panic when I lost my balance, but instantly felt relief upon landing on something. The impact wasn't as painful as I expected it to be.

_A fountain. _I fell on a marble fountain's ledge.

From the angle of my view, the fountain wasn't the only thing that caught my attention. It was diverted to something much, much bigger. So big, in fact, that I once again doubted the reality of my situation once again.

A manor.

I patted my trouser pocket for the feeling of the pocket watch to erase any doubt of illusions.

Right there before me laid a grand manor house of great size, occupying the center of an open field filled with trimmed grass and surrounded by the prettiest flowers I have even seen in my life- the ones in the floral shop simply could not compare. The architecture was simply marvelous- it must have been designed to replicate the mansions of the 19th century. It couldn't have been made during that time, I knew, due to its sheer state of newness. Renovation could only do so much to an old home, after all.

No matter how pretty everything was, I couldn't stop the panic from creeping inside my conscience. I was so baffled and alarmed as to how I came there in the first place. I knew for a fact that my previous encounter with Sebastian, Grell, and that man William was not a dream, but the later events concerning my being sent to another location was such an odd, unlikely one that I was starting to doubt the authenticity of it all.

"Excuse me?"

Startled, I was quick to turn my head towards the newcomer. Just because the scenery was nice doesn't mean that the people in it were any nicer.

"Sir?"

_Sir?_ Could he possibly be referring to _me_? I know that I wasn't wearing the nicest of outfits, but being mistaken as a man is just degrading. I discreetly took a peek behind me to make sure it was I who he was addressing.

"I don't think you should be in here. I'm sorry- it's just that the Phantomhive Manor is private property."

The newcomer- he was about my age or less. His hair was blonde, short, and messy, as it pointed in practically every direction. His attire was a simple one- a white shirt, printed trousers, and a straw hat that hung from his neck. His eyes, however, where the first thing that caught my attention. He had wide, bluish-green orbs that practically shone against the violent rays of the sun.

The man's- _boy'_s?- brow furrowed in concern. Either he thought that I was peculiar or he saw the large amount of blood that blotted my clothing, because he immediately frowned.

"Are you alright?" he asked with worry. His voice was very soft and sincere. "I think you're injured! Perhaps I should get you to Mister Sebastian."

_Sebastian_. Such a common name.

"I-I'm just lost..." I uttered quietly.

He instantly gripped my wrist with strength that I didn't know he possessed and dragged me towards the front of the manor.

I wanted so much to protest– in fact, I simply _begged_ to be released. However, he would have none of it. Not only was I bewildered, but I was now scared for my life. No matter how nice that young man appeared to be, there would be no telling what he or anyone else in that mansion would do to me. But with such strength, I knew I did not have a choice.

The large double doors of the manor banged open with a seemingly light push of his palms. However, he suddenly stopped, and I found myself relieved.

"Mister Sebastian!" he exclaimed.

_There goes that name again..._

"What is it, Finny?"

I suddenly froze_. I knew that voice._

It felt as if it had been years since I last heard it. I never realized how burdened I felt with being thrust into this overwhelming, nonsensical situation until it was all suddenly lifted from my shoulders. The relief of hearing something so familiar in such a foreign place...

But it was somehow different, I knew. Different, yet familiar. It was hard to describe what exactly was the problem without sounding mad.

This voice– Sebastian's voice– it did not sound right in my ears. Impassive, cold, and unforgiving was his tone, hidden beneath a thin layer of forced politeness. It sounded hollow and lifeless. I have never heard him use this sort of tone in those few moments that I've spent with him– not even when he addressed Grell and William T. Spears, whom he evidently disliked.

This was not even close to the kind Sebastian that I've grown so fond of.

I was hidden behind the young boy– Finny– though I was able to see the familiar tall, lithe figure of Sebastian Michaelis from his shoulder.

His clothes were, indeed, odd. He was dressed like a stuffy butler from one of those Victorian telly shows that my mum watched during holiday specials, complete with polished tail coat, Albert chain, and everything. Never before have I seen him dressed so formal.

His expression, however, was anything but familiar. Like his voice, it was impassive and disinterested. Sharp crimson eyes which flashed against the sunlight. His gaze was steadily set on Finny and he had a look as if resigned onto whatever terrible news it was he bore. Sebastian gave a sigh and inhaled deeply through his nose.

However, his breath seemed to catch in his throat- as if he suddenly caught a whiff of something foul. His impassive, red eyes of before flashed in a feral manner as his irises turned from Finny's face to his shoulder, and connected with mine. Garnet flashed in the light, and I swore that I saw fuchsia.

I was startled upon seeing the unhidden malevolence in his expression as he looked at me. But more than anything, I was confused. The Sebastian I knew was injured to the point of fatality by none other than William T. Spears, so how was it that he was able to stand well as before? And what had I done to elicit such anger from him?

Sebastian suddenly stiffened, but his expression melted from that of anger to open distain as he regarded me.

"Finnian, don't you remember our last conversation?" he said with a new edge of chill before he gave out a slight sigh as he gently touched the tips of his gloved fingers to his temple.

The young man Finny suddenly shrunk under Sebastian's gaze as he rocked back and forth on his heel. Despite that, he refused to let go of my wrist– either he forgot, or he was just too preoccupied.

"Yes, Mister Sebastian," he said, as would a petulant child asking for forgiveness.

"Do not welcome unknown _vermin_ into the prestigious home of Phantomhive."

Although he said it with a close-lipped smile, I could tell it for what it was. I felt myself flinch from the unexpected hostility shown to me by the very person who I believed was the kindest of all those I've met. But... why was he acting in this way? We were- _are_- friends, and yet he spoke as if he didn't know me at all.

In his cold eyes, I could not see the slightest trace of recognition.

"But he's injured!" Finnian argued, "I couldn't just send him off!"

Sebastian's eyes merely flickered in my direction, and, as before, I could see that distain set into his expression, as if he were regarding something so repulsive.

"Indeed?" he uttered with disinterest.

Finnian nodded vigorously.

After a few moments, Sebastian gave a small sigh before moving aside, pressing his back against the wooden door.

"Very well," he exhaled, as if speaking against his better judgment, "We cannot have the reputation of the Phantomhives tarnished because we turned away someone in need, after all."

"Come on, now," said Finnian softly, reassuringly, sending me a kind smile as he pulled me in by the wrist, "you're safe here."

Oddly enough, I was reluctant to believe that.

I don't know what it was that made me quiet. I believe I was stunned to silence by the seeming reality of my situation. At the time, I was still rather hesitant to truly believe that I was really there. Things like these don't just happen, you see. I was just…_ stupefied_.

There were no words available to describe my bafflement.

I wanted so much to yell, scream, cry—_anything._ But I believe that I still gripped onto a small sense of logic within me, which prevented me from doing so. After all, even though I did not particularly _feel_ sane, there was no reason to be illogical and make _them_ think that.

"Finny, don't you have work to do?" Sebastian regarded the young man coolly with a raised brow. He stared at him with impassive eyes that held a small twinge of impatience.

Finnian lowered his head in what I think was shame and rocked backed and forth on his feet, giving me the impression of a chastised child.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sebastian," he said, "I just thought- well…"

"I'll take care of our… guest. Go back to work. And refrain from doing any severe damage," Sebastian added coldly.

Finnian nodded before releasing my wrist and sending me an encouraging smile. "Don't worry," he said, obviously seeing the panicked expression on my face. "Mr. Sebastian's going to take good care of you."

And yet, somehow, I doubted that.

I almost protested. I did not want to be alone with this man.

However, as the severity of the situation hasn't completely dawned on me yet, I allowed myself to be dragged off by the stiff creature clad in fancy attire that replicated the face of the man who I believed was the kindest of all that I've met.

He led me into a small room once we had descended a set of stairs hidden behind the grand one on the main hall. Throughout our small sojourn, Sebastian did not initiate any conversations, and I was thankful, for if he had, I was sure to have burst to tears.

This man—he was not Sebastian. At least, not the Sebastian that I've come to know. I did not feel the safety and security. I felt isolated and wary.

No. Something was wrong.

* * *

By the time Mister Sebastian had lead me to the spare seat by the corner of the room, I had managed to blink away the tears of panic that had formed during the walk. I had also somewhat managed to calm my heartbeat.

Granted, I was still suffering from nerves, but I believed that to be unavoidable when the man who was supposed to be looking out for you kept shooting hostile looks that could kill. It wasn't an exaggeration when I said that Sebastian really did look like he wanted to kill me.

Other than the frequent looks of cold aggression that he sent my way, he did not bother to acknowledge my existence as he looked in the drawers to obtain the necessary tools for injuries. As he was taking his time, I suppose it hadn't been illogical of me to think that he was looking for a weapon to off me.

And so I had no choice but to sit in silence as I waited for my execution.

I visibly flinched when I felt the oddly cool tips of his gloves gently touch my hand. Sebastian, however, did not comment, as he diligently wiped away the crimson blood that had dried. He had himself lowered on one knee, his expression hard and cold.

I felt myself tensing as his silky voice pierced the silence of the atmosphere.

"I wonder what it was that happened, Miss, that caused you such harm."

Had he replicated his tone with that of concern, I would have found his wonder genuine.

As I could not come up with anything to say, I remained quiet.

"It's quite curious," he continued, his garnet eyes flashing briefly in my direction, "that you don't have any wounds despite the amount of blood on your person."

By this point, I could no longer ignore his words. Sebastian had long since stopped cleaning the blood off of my hand with the wet cloth and, instead, penetrated me with the glare of his crimson eyes.

I couldn't understand his anger and hostility towards me.

_Why? _Why was he so angry?

"I'm fine…" I managed to wheeze out, "It's not my blood."

His garnet eyes narrowed into slits, and I found myself suddenly fearing for my life. My once calm heartbeat suddenly escalated into a much faster pace and I found myself clenching the solid grip of the seat.

Why was he so angry?

"I wonder whose blood it belongs to, exactly?" he asked silkily, dangerously, as his garnet eyes flickered quickly from the blood to my eyes.

At that, I stayed silent. However, my silence only seemed to anger him even more. I did, in a way, understand his frustration—after all, if I were forced to help a stranger that was covered in blood, I'd like to know the reason, as well. But what could I say, exactly? _Oh, don't mind it, it's not mine, it's yours—or , at least, your look alike with a much kinder disposition. Do you have a twin, by any chance? _No, I was much too terrified for that kind of answer. Sarcasm was never my route for conversation, anyways.

I was unfortunately right when I said that he was angry. It terrified me even more. While I said that I understood where his frustration came from, I admit that it was the wrong sort of frustration that I expected. Irritation at being interrupted, I understood. But this sort of chilling disposition…

"I would recommend your cooperation in answering my questions," he uttered quietly, and I struggled not to gasp as his grip on my wrist tightened to a close point of bone-crushing. "After all," he said with a leering smile, "It's your life."

All the while, I remained frozen as this man—this unfamiliar, ruthless man—stared at me with horrifying scorn and frustration that his blood-red alone could achieve. From that, I knew he had no intention to break that threat. And while I was scared completely of this display, I could not help get the feeling of terrified wonder as to why it was exactly he was angry at me, if not for the reason I thought.

He would follow through with his threat, I knew. And yet, I remained silent.

His eyes narrowed over his shadowed eyes and he none too gently pulled my crimson-stained palm right above his lips. I stilled as I felt his chilled skin, so familiar. It baffled me how this man's appearance could be so exact… while being so different.

I found myself bewildered as he inhaled deeply. Had my gaze not flickered briefly out of sheer discomfort, I would not have caught that glimpse of fuchsia in his iris. I would have pondered over such wonder, and yet I was too busy trying to stifle the urge of pulling my wrist away from him.

I gave a startled yelp as his gloved hand grasped my throat in one swift movement and I could feel the rate of my heart pumping from sheer fear of this person. I grasped his wrist helplessly and all I could do was watch his narrowed, garnet eyes as his grasp fully loosened on the almost-choking force that he held me at.

I shut my eyes tightly and turned my head away.

_Dear God, he's going to kill me. _

"Why are you covered in my blood?" he uttered in a mere whisper. I stiffened even more once I heard his words before slowly opening my eyes. I don't… understand. How could he possibly have known that?

As he said it, his face and voice lost the harsh traces of anger, only to be replaced by utter bewilderment and underlying frustration directed at me, but at himself, seeming as an internal struggle.

His furrowed gaze flickered directly to my own, as if for the first time seeing me, and I was surprised as he regarded be without the concentrated discontent that he did so previously. I experienced a wave of relief as his hand left my neck and placed it instead on my cheek with a chilling, light touch. However, I could not help but shrink in utter fear at being regarded at with such intensity.

And then, he asked a question in which I myself could not answer.

_"Who the hell are you?"_

* * *

**Author's Note: **

_Hello. This chapter wasn't reviewed by my UNRELIABLE (Kevin, I hope you find this. Take offense, dear. I dare you) editor, and so I uploaded with only my edits. Again, apologies for any mistakes you come across upon reading this. _

_**Please review.** I'd very much like to hear your thoughts, complaints, feels– anything of the sort, feel free to post it. Even if you have any suggestions or complaints about the absolute OOC of Sebastian on this chapter or anything. _

_And for those of you in America, happy late Thanksgiving. _

_Lecila_


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